


if ever you want me, if ever you need me

by zenelly



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: Kurapika’s expression is distant, something about the way his gaze tracks off to the side and he can’t seem to look Leorio in the eyes. The question he was going to ask dies on his tongue. Leorio wishes this part didn’t taste like sour rust, filling his mouth with all the things he won’t say. Gnawing on the inside of his mouth, he lets out a breath and pours them both a cup of tea. Kurapika won’t drink it. But it gives Leorio something to do.“So you’re leaving again,” Leorio says, blunt and to the point.Leorio is tired of always being left behind.





	if ever you want me, if ever you need me

**Author's Note:**

> I'd apologize, but that'd imply that I'm sorry for what I've done here, which I genuinely am not. Huge thanks to Eddy, who beta'd this and told me to stop abusing commas so much. 
> 
> Set nebulously in the future, with Kurapika's quest regrettably unfinished and Leorio settling down elsewhere. Title from "Chasin' Honey" by Wild Party. [Recommended listening.](https://soundcloud.com/misterboy/i-fall-apart-sad-boy-remix)

Exhaustion drags at him like a physical force, heavy weights in his eyelids and every aching joint in his body. He just has to make it to the door, Leorio reasons with himself as he takes another step, sagging against the wall. If he can make it to his door, then he can rest. He can unwind, as much as a doctor can ever unwind. Sure, he’s not on call right now, but that means close to nothing.

Another step.

Five more feet and the scratch of his keys in the lock. He can do this. Sure, his vision is crossing, going worryingly grey in the corners, and Leorio knows that if he was one of his own interns he would have sent himself home hours ago. But hours ago Sydnie wasn’t coding. And Leorio isn’t an intern.

Hours ago Leorio hadn’t had to surgically open a little girl’s airway, keeping a desperate ear out for the anesthesia-steady beat of her heart.

Right, if he wants to open the door, he needs to finish unlocking it. Leorio twists the key a little further, hearing the drag of metal on metal as the latch slides back. Before he gets a hand on the handle, the door opens.

“You took a long time opening that,” Kurapika says, one eyebrow arched. “Losing some coordination in your old age?”

For a moment, Leorio just stares. Kurapika looks good as always; a slender, dangerous, dark force in the straight lines of his suit, and it just contrasts with how ragged Leorio knows he looks. Kurapika’s hair bright where it hangs around his face. He’ll have to get it cut soon, Leorio thinks, a little inanely. It’s getting long enough to brush his shoulders and its careful bob is growing unevenly.

“You’re here,” he says, a little punch-drunk and stupid with it. “What are you doing here?”

“What a way to treat a patient.” Kurapika shakes his head with a sigh, moving to let Leorio inside.

Heart dropping in dread, in the thick stock of disappointment, Leorio says, “Patient?”

Kurapika nods. Holds up his arm, which, now that Leorio can see it, does have some dried blood on it. If his suit wasn’t black, Leorio’s sure he would’ve seen it sooner. “I’m tracking the troupe and I need stitches before I keep going. Melody told me to; otherwise, I would have done it myself and not bothered you.”

“Of course,” Leorio says. He drops his bag on the ground and looks around at his small apartment, at the stained wooden floors and familiar décor, and tries to not vomit at how immediately _furious_ he is. Of course Kurapika came here for help.

After all, he doesn’t come here for anything else.

“Right then, come here.” Leorio gestures him to sit on the counter, where Leorio won’t have to bend over to reach his arm, while he retrieves his overstocked medical supplies. Antiseptic, a suture needle, some gauze pads. He gathers the rest and goes to Kurapika, who has shed his jacket. Sure enough, the entirety of his lower right sleeve is red, and Leorio’s mouth firms out into a thin line the more of the ugly wound beneath he sees. “I’m surprised you didn’t use your Healing Cross on this. It looks painful.”

“You’re the one who told me to not use it so much,” Kurapika says, looking away as Leorio carefully cleans the wound and starts stitching.

Leorio honestly just assumes Kurapika never listens to him, so this is a surprise. The words bubble to the surface and- just sink back down. He’s too tired to banter, to argue, futilely, in favor of the remaining hours of Kurapika’s life, and instead Leorio just bends grimly over Kurapika’s arm and keeps his hands steady despite the way the room pulls sideways at the corners of his eyes.

When he’s done and cleaning his tools, boiling water going on the stovetop, Kurapika has already stood and rolled his sleeve back down. Kurapika’s expression is distant, something about the way his gaze tracks off to the side and he can’t seem to look Leorio in the eyes. The question he was going to ask dies on his tongue. Leorio wishes this part didn’t taste like sour rust, filling his mouth with all the things he won’t say. Gnawing on the inside of his mouth, he lets out a breath and pours them both a cup of tea. Kurapika won’t drink it. But it gives Leorio something to do.

“So you’re leaving again,” Leorio says, blunt and to the point.

That gets grey to flicker back towards him. Kurapika’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Yes. I have a new-“

“I don’t… It’s fine, Kurapika. You have a new lead.” Leorio waves a hand, returning it to the hot sides of his mug like the heat will center him. This time, he’s the one to look away. “You have to go.”

Silence. Then, “I do.”

 _Right,_ Leorio thinks, and he’s so _fucking_ tired. It makes his eyes heavy and his tongue loose. “I’ll see you whenever you decide to come back this time, then.”

“Al…right.”

Leorio’s mouth twists to the side as he looks up at Kurapika’s nonplussed face. “What, were you expecting me to talk you out of it? That doesn’t seem to really work, so I’m giving up.”

Kurapika looks, somehow, even more unsettled by this. “You, giving up?”

“Yup,” Leorio says, popping the “p” to the twitch of Kurapika’s eyebrow. “It’s a waste of my breath when you don’t ever listen to me, so. I’m not going to bother anymore. You’ll show up when you need something from me again, just like you have every other time you’ve bothered to come around.”

“You’re the one who keeps calling me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to be doing that anymore either. You never answer. It doesn’t make you come home- come _here_ any faster. Kurapika, I’m done. I’m done with all of it. I’m not going to keep putting myself out there for someone who doesn’t care enough to do something about it.”

Kurapika scoffs. “Doesn’t _care_ enough?”

“You heard me,” Leorio says with ice in his tongue. He takes a sip of his tea, just on the verge of too hot, but it does nothing to warm him. “You have made it very clear where your priorities are. This is just me, doing the same.”

The pause lingers too long to be natural, and Kurapika takes a step towards him. “Leorio, I-“

“God, can we just-“ he bursts out, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You know what, can we not do this right now?”

There’s a startled pause as Kurapika comes to a halt. Leorio drags his hands down his face, feeling the grime on his face and the rasp of three-day-old stubble on his palms from where he hasn’t had _time_ to shave. He takes one breath, feels it steady on the way in and shake on the way out, harsh and fast.

Then, quietly, “Leorio?”

“I just came off my rotation.” Leorio swallows. His throat is tight and full as he pushes the words deeper into him, redirects the anger and frustration like a train hopping off the track. Finally, he opens his eyes to see Kurapika, standing there with one hand half-outstretched and his lips parted. Like he’s surprised. Like any of this is a shock, Leorio thinks, bitter and tired with it. “I am. Exhausted. All I want is to shower and go to sleep. This… this can wait until morning. Either you’ll be here, or you won’t.”

Predictably, Kurapika is silent in the wake of this, as he has been, as he has grown to be, silent and hollow where before fire filled him. He says nothing, but his expression is somehow expectant.

Leorio lets out a loud sigh, pushing his hair back with a shaking hand. He’s- He’s not going to deal with this. Not now. Impatience and anger lap at his heels, burning his lungs, but there’s no fuel to let them out. He could easily get in a shouting match. He could just as easily apologize for his outburst, brush this under the rug, and invite Kurapika to his bed. But that would end with him waking up to cold sheets in the morning.

Not today. Today, Leorio is just… tired. He moves past Kurapika, giving him a wide berth. As he leaves the room, heading for his bathroom, Leorio says, “If you decide you’re going to bother sticking around until tomorrow morning, I’ll make breakfast.”

And he closes the door behind him.

The hot water soothes away the initial burst of anger, at least, but its loss just leaves Leorio tired. He goes through the motions mechanically, stopping himself when he pays too much attention to his arms, soaping them up to his elbows with large, dragging motions, leaving swaths of suds behind. He’s not getting ready for another surgery. He doesn’t-

He doesn’t need this.

When Leorio emerges to an empty apartment, single, flickering light in the kitchen highlighting a stack of money Kurapika left behind, he wishes he was surprised.

 _“For your services,”_ is all that’s written on a note pinned to the top bill, in Kurapika’s neat lettering.

Leorio flips the paper over and over and over and heads back into the bathroom to retch, nauseous and let down.

* * *

 

His outburst haunts Leorio, hanging around him like a cloak of guilt. If he hadn’t been so tired, Kurapika might have stayed. If he hadn’t snapped at Kurapika for no reason, for asking for what he always does, for _leaving_ like he _always does_ -

Leorio curls over himself. Hugging his own elbows doesn’t calm his stomach, roiling with anxiety, but it doesn’t upset it anymore either, and Leorio will take the little victories where he can get them.

It’ll be fine, he thinks. Kurapika will either come back or he won’t, and either way, Leorio will have to handle his absence. It’s nothing new. They’ve been apart longer than they’ve known each other, the cumulative years of their friendship nothing compared to the gaping holes where Kurapika has pulled away. It doesn’t stop Leorio from reaching for his phone, though, tapping out a familiar number instead of just scrolling. Like the extra effort will summon Kurapika, somehow.

 _“Leave a message,”_ is all Kurapika’s answering service says, in his clipped, professional voice. No name, no number, no _“I’ll get back to you,”_ which is probably a good thing, because it’d be a lie. Leorio doesn’t know what he expected.

“Hey Kurapika, it’s me, Leorio. I just wanted… I wanted to say that… I was glad to see you. I’m always glad to see you,” he whispers like it’ll change anything. Like it’ll make Kurapika come back. “I am. It was just a really bad day at the clinic, and seeing you is good but it’s also frustrating and sometimes I- I can only take so much, Kurapika. I’m sorry for yelling. You could have stayed the night. I’m sorry.”

Perhaps predictably, the phone does not answer.

* * *

 

Kurapika doesn’t always come by for medical care.

In fact, him coming for Leorio’s services as a doctor is honestly rarer than his need for Leorio’s skin, for the taste of his mouth and the needy clutch of his body as Leorio drives into him. Kurapika comes to Leorio to be driven out of his own head sometimes. A hard reset, pressed by Leorio’s teeth and tongue and hands until Kurapika is glowing, red-eyed with pleasure. Until he shudders and moans, the most noise he voluntarily makes around Leorio most days, and even then, Leorio fills the silences, bridging the gap between them again and again and again-

(They don’t talk about why he left last time. Kurapika doesn’t say anything aside from Leorio’s name and “Yes, more, faster, harder, _Leorio, harder,”_ to be entirely fair, and Leorio is in no hurry to say anything either, guilt still swirling heavily around him.)

After, Leorio drops into a sated, pleasure-heavy doze. He feels oddly hollow, the sensations of orgasm chasing each other around on the surface of his skin but penetrating no deeper. Maybe if he had Kurapika tucked underneath his chin, that would be different, but Kurapika pulled away, afterward. Even if he reached out now, Leorio feels like he would end up pushing Kurapika out further, instead of pulling him near.

With a sigh, he rolls over. The hollowness follows him, sinking into his core as Leorio tries to fall fully asleep, his back facing Kurapika.

Leorio hears a rustle in the sheets. The bed shifts as Kurapika moves, and Leorio holds himself carefully still, keeps his breath even and his shoulders loose even as his eyes burn with hot, frustrated, held-back tears. Of course. Of course. Of course Kurapika is just going to leave in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. Of course this harebrained, suicidal drive for his own destruction is more important to Kurapika than Leorio. He shouldn’t be surprised. That’s how it’s always been. That’s how this is always going to be, and Leorio wants to go back in time and fucking _shake_ himself until common sense comes out and he _doesn’t_ tell himself that he’s okay with being the thing Kurapika comes back to when it means that Kurapika will have to leave, over and over again.

Because he isn’t okay with it.

He never has been.

Leorio knows, up in his headspace when he’s able to be rational about it, that Kurapika feels he needs to take his revenge. He understands that the closure of putting his family’s murderers to their death is supposed to be cathartic. But Leorio sees it killing Kurapika in degrees. The drive and desperation have burned away the gentle parts of him, the parts that knew how to think of other people as more than just sources of information.

That thought is unkind. It’s not that Kurapika has forgotten. It’s more that caring about other people has become less important than killing Chrollo. Than reclaiming the Scarlet Eyes. And Leorio can’t even blame him.

Warmth presses against his back, and it takes everything Leorio has to not twitch. Kurapika curls up against him. His arm snakes around Leorio to rest, clenched, against his sternum, and Leorio can feel the gentle puff of breath as Kurapika sighs into the nape of Leorio’s neck. He is a line of heat, of bodyweight and the comfortable gravity of another person’s skin. Leorio feels a brief pressure at the knob of his spine.

A kiss, he thinks, and that’s when the tears start.

Through them, Kurapika only holds him closer. In this, his lack of words is comforting, understanding instead of alienating, as Leorio fights a losing battle not to cry and salt stings at the sore corners of his swollen eyes. There is no pretending that he’s asleep anymore. Not with the way his breath trembles and stutters, a traitor beneath Kurapika’s fist and arm, and the quiet noises that Leorio can’t quite stifle. Because what does all of this matter when Kurapika is just going to leave again?

What does it matter, when Leorio isn’t enough to make Kurapika stay?

Sleep claims him in the space between one breath and the next, and Leorio wakes feeling no more rested than before, his eyes still sticky with salt.

Unsurprisingly, he is alone.

More startling, when he goes into the kitchen to try and coax his secondhand coffee machine into life for yet another day, he finds Kurapika there, fussing with breakfast despite the fact that a single glance at his clock puts the time past noon.

“You’re leaving again,” he says, like always. Like announcing it will change the facts and make Kurapika think twice about going.

Kurapika nods. “I am. I thought… This time I would say goodbye.”

Leorio’s hearts slams into an off-kilter, panicked beat, and he lunges forward to grab Kurapika by the arm. “Why? You’re coming home- here, after, right?”

“You don’t like it when I leave without saying goodbye,” Kurapika says, mystified. “I… I’m not good at leaving like this, so I don’t usually do it, but I thought- For you, at least. I could stand to at least let you know when I was leaving.”

“I don’t like coming in second to the man who killed your family,” Leorio tells him before he can think better of it. “I know _why_ , but I don’t like it. I like being reminded of that even less.”

“Leorio, I-“ Kurapika’s lips purse. “You know I care about you.”

With a long breath, Leorio feels the words catch like sparks on the tinder of his temper. “That doesn’t change the fact that you put me second. That you always have, and most likely always will until you destroy the Phantom Troupe and get the rest of the eyes. It doesn’t mean I like it. You _caring_ about me changes none of these things. I love you, and it changes nothing. Loving you doesn’t mean you’ll stay here with me, or start answering my phone calls. It just means that I love you.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t?”

Leorio throws his hands up. “Probably! It probably would be easier! Dying on the streets after Pietro would’ve been easier! But you can’t ever tell my dumb, stupid heart what to do because it’s fucking contrary and I’ll just end up holding on harder. Besides, when have you ever known me to do the easy thing, huh?”

Kurapika smiles like he can’t quite help it, wry. “Several times, actually.”

“Not the point.” But the aside breaks the tension, and Leorio lets himself cool back down, low and hurt and, ultimately, unwilling to fight. “Look, I just…”

“Mm, it’s alright, Leorio. I … shouldn’t have said that.”

And Leorio pauses. Blinks then squints suspiciously at Kurapika. “Said what?”

“That you shouldn’t be in love with me. It was,” and Kurapika’s eyes slide to the side again, like they do, but he pulls himself together instead of going distant and silent. “Rude. Presumptuous? Wrong of me, regardless of the exact semantics.”

Leorio-

Doesn’t know what to say to that.

And Kurapika looks out the window at the strip of sky overhead before he straightens. Holds out a hand to Leorio. “Go for a walk with me, Leorio.”

* * *

 

Hand in hand, they make their way through the village that Leorio has called his home for the last year. Leorio waves at almost everyone, distracted here and there by a patient who wants to talk longer, and, bafflingly, Kurapika stays by his side for all of this. He’s a frequent enough presence that most people recognize him as a friend of Leorio’s (said with varying levels of significance depending on the relative nosiness of the people involved) and talk to him too, though he doesn’t always respond.

It drags on for hours. Leorio incidentally treats a few scrapes and bruises, takes a look at aching eyes and heads and backs, passing out gentle words and admonishments for people to take better care of themselves. He gets one stubborn student to actually agree to come to his clinic tomorrow when he’s back on shift

Through it all, Kurapika goes nowhere. He just watches.

Finally, though, Kurapika leads him to the cliffs behind the town, where the sun is slowly starting to set over the expansive ocean. He picks up a rock, worn smooth, and stares out across the sea.

“You do really important work here, you know.” Kurapika turns the rock over in his hands. “In general, too. You care about people. I admire that about you. I don’t know if I remember how to do that anymore.”

Leorio’s throat tightens. “Hey now. Don’t say that.”

“Leorio, I hardly consider your feelings most of the time. You’re always looking out for me, or for other people. You’ve given me more than I deserve. I don’t think I’ve given nearly as much back.”

“It’s not about giving and getting,” Leorio says, rubbing his face with his hand. It isn’t. Leorio doesn’t _need_ anything back from Kurapika to keep going. A little consideration here and there wouldn’t kill him, mind, but _needing_ is another matter entirely. “I just like looking after people.”

Kurapika nods. “I know. And I love you, so I want to start looking after you too.”

Leorio can’t breathe.

“Did you know there were ten different ways to apologize in Kurtan?” Kurapika asks, idle.

Leorio looks at him, gilt and golden in the sunset over the island, the sound of crashing waves far below them. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Kurapika offers information about his people so infrequently that the mention of them tends to take Leorio off-guard. Finally, he says, “Are there?”

“Mm. Every language has certain things that it’s better at than others. Common, for all its malformed grace, relates and connects people and ideas with such specific words sometimes. So I suppose, what I’m saying is,” Kurapika’s lashes lower. Leorio can’t, or doesn’t want to, look away. “The words to say anything are out there, if you care enough to find them.”

“And do you?” Leorio asks, unable to stop himself. He waits until Kurapika meets his eyes before continuing. “Care enough, that is?”

Kurapika holds his gaze until Leorio’s skin starts pricking with white-hot pins of panic. Finally, though, he says, “I could teach you, sometime.”

“Learning a language takes some time, you know.” Leorio swallows, throat tight. “And practice.”

“Daily practice, even,” Kurapika agrees. “I don’t plan on going easy on you, you know. I want to hear my language again from someone other than myself.”

“I’m going to go ahead and apologize for my accent now.”

And Kurapika smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and perhaps it’s the sunset reflecting in his eyes, but the irises light up around the edges of Kurapika’s contacts. Leorio wonders what he’s feeling that has him so openly emotional, then decides it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, as long as Kurapika is here, in front of him, freely feeling anything. “I’m sure it’ll be awful. You’ll learn, though.”

“You still have to kill the rest of them. I’m… I’m not going to stop you from doing that.”

“I do,” Kurapika allows. Fingers brush against Leorio’s hand. He opens to allow them in, startled, as Kurapika slides his hand into Leorio’s, his cool fingers weaving between Leorio’s. He looks at their entwined hands, then up at Kurapika. Who brings them up to his lips and kisses the back of Leorio’s hand. “If you call me, though, we can still practice. We can talk to each other when we’re apart that way.”

“Will you answer if I do?”

“Haven’t I been?” Kurapika kisses the back of Leorio’s hand again. “Leorio, I’ve been meaning to apologize for a lot.”

Leorio abandons the fading sunset in favor of turning towards Kurapika. He gathers Kurapika’s other hand and brings both of them up to press his lips clumsily across all his knuckles. His face is too hot. His eyes are welling with tears, and Leorio needs to take a few steadying breaths before he’s able to talk with reasonable confidence that his voice won’t break when he does. “Well, sounds like I need to learn a little bit of Kurtan before you can apologize properly, huh?”

And Kurapika pushes himself up and forward, leaning his weight trustingly against Leorio as he murmurs, “How about I tell you now and teach you what it means after?” and kisses Leorio there on the ledge by the sea.


End file.
